The Spirit of Christmas
by nachalainne
Summary: DI Lestrade demonstrates his holiday enthusiasm during the Yarders' annual Christmas party.


"Come on, it's just for tonight. You can take it down after the party, I promise!"

"Absolutely not, Sally. You are not putting that monstrosity on my door."

Sergeant Donovan rolled her eyes and huffed. "This-" she replied, brandishing the giant, red bow at him, "is Christmas cheer, Greg. Cheer and good will, and you are being such a Grinch about it!"

Greg Lestrade took a step backwards, into the safety of his office. "Your Christmas cheer is already all over my office, Sally. Look." He motioned behind him at the hanging baubles and tinsel and bloody, little bits of holly she'd tacked up everywhere. "On every surface and then some, and that plus a big, floppy bow on my door is just too much good will for one holiday."

He'd put his foot down and refused to have any more decorations when she tried to pin a giant wreath of mistletoe over his desk. Damned if he was going to relent and let her add anything else now.

"Fine," she hissed. "Whatever you say, Detective Inspector Scrooge. I'll just bring this to someone who will appreciate my holiday enthusiasm then, shall I?"

Greg smiled, resting his hand on the glass door that separated his office from the rest of the floor. "By all means... just remember that it's against regulation to bring anything but evidence into Anderson's lab." Sally's eyes flashed with anger as he merrily shut the door in her face.

Sometimes he just couldn't resist.

Sally glared as she turned her back to her best friend, eyes sweeping over the remainder of the office in search of more accommodating prey. Two interns immediately grabbed stacks of files, averted their eyes and pretended to be wholly absorbed in their work. They'd learned very early on not to cross Sergeant Donovan when she was irritated.

In fact, only one person seemed utterly unconcerned with her sudden change in temper - probably because he was sound asleep.

Sally locked on like a heat-seeking missile, strutting over to the snoring Dimmock and casually shoving his feet off his desk. He awoke with a snort, mumbling his excuses as he looked up. "Sorry! Sorry, Chief, I- …what the hell, Donovan!"

"Iain," she replied with a smirk, perching on the edge of his desk where his feet had been. "Get up and help me decorate."

Detective Inspector Iain Dimmock stared at her, mouth hanging open slightly. "Bit of a waste of company time, don't you think?" he asked, well aware of the irony.

"Shut up. I'm putting this on your desk." Sally dangled the bow in front of his face. "It's about time you had something worth looking at over here."

Dimmock pursed his lips. "Thanks for that." To be fair, she wasn't joking. He didn't have much in the way of personal effects - he never had. He had a small box of things in the bottom drawer that he hadn't ever gotten around to putting up, but considering how infrequently he was actually at his desk, it had never bothered him.

Sally straightened up, grabbing the tape as she stood. "You could at least put up pictures or something. Maybe change your computer background so that it looks like an actual employee works here, and not just a temp." Kneeling in front of his desk, she centered the bow and taped it down. "Better, but hardly enough."

"Is this your Christmas mission?" he asked. "Drowning the whole office in holiday decorations?"

"Yes," she answered. "And you're gonna help me. Because there's an office party tonight, and I have a whole box of mistletoe that needs hanging."

Iain closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, Christ."

Hours later, New Scotland Yard had been transformed from a modestly decorated office into a winter wonderland - or a holiday warzone, depending on how you looked at it. Deck the halls had been amended to include desks, pillars, cubicles and even Lestrade's door - not that he had noticed. He had completely forgotten about the incident with the bow earlier that day. In fact, he'd rather forgotten about anything that had happened before the Yard's Christmas party had started.

To his credit, he was completely sloshed. He, Donovan, Anderson and Dimmock had staked out the punch bowl at the back of the office the minute one of the secretaries had announced that there would be karaoke. They'd done well at first, stifling their derisive laughter behind hands and cups and turning their backs if they just couldn't contain themselves - but hours into the event, they'd all but given up.

Sally was nearly doubled over, clutching her cup in one hand and clinging to Greg with the other. She was shaking with laughter, and trying desperately not to spill her drink. Despite the fact that he was weak in the knees himself, he was doing his best to keep her upright. The four of them howled as their co-workers demonstrated exactly why they were all on the police force, and not professional recording artists.

"Oh god, it's the Chief - somebody get a camera," Anderson muttered as Good King Wenceslas blared out over the speakers for the tenth time that evening. Dimmock snorted into his punch, and Sally buried her face in Greg's shirt to muffle her high-pitched giggling. He chuckled, rubbing her back reassuringly. The rest of the office they were free to laugh at as they pleased, but openly mocking the police commander was never a good idea - not even at Christmas.

"Can you imagine?" Dimmock asked, straightening his Santa hat. "Hey Chief - I need a raise. No, you say? Well, let's have a look at this video from last year's holiday party..."

Sally struggled to regain her balance. "I'd like extra holiday time-" They winced as the commander's booming baritone cut her off. "...and a new desk chair, while you're at it."

"I'd like to know who thought karaoke was a good idea in the first place," Greg added, sipping his drink. "Tinsel is one thing, but-" He lowered his voice. "I think my ears are bleeding."

"You think?" Anderson asked, slightly incredulous. "After round six of round six of Rudolph, I felt my brain start to dissolve."

"No, that's just the punch," Ian corrected, as they shook with laughter once again.

"See, Greg?" Sally asked as they struggled to keep straight faces. "Even you have to admit this is fun."

The detective inspector glanced sideways at her. He'd been humming to himself in an effort to drown out the overwhelming noise at the front of the room. "I never said Christmas wasn't fun."

"Are you joking?" Dimmock chimed in. "You've been complaining about it for a month now."

"About the crime rates," Greg protested. "Not the actual holiday."

"You can be a bit of a grouch, you know," Anderson added.

"I am not!"

Sally punched Greg lightly in the shoulder. "Admit it, boss. Even your bad attitude can't stop Christmas."

"I was never trying to st-..." he stopped, eyes drifting to the ceiling. Despite their teasing, he couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Fine. You want Christmas spirit?"

Sally nodded enthusiastically as Greg put his drink down.

"Fine," he repeated. Putting both hands on Iain's shoulders, he propelled the younger detective backwards several steps. Iain looked slightly startled - his hat had slipped to the side again, and his face was significantly rosier than any of theirs.

"What're y-" Greg tipped his chin up and kissed him firmly on the mouth before he had a chance to finish the question. Anderson whistled and Sally cat-called, both of them clapping as loudly as they could. The rest of the office rapidly joined in, cheering and applauding just as enthusiastically.

When Greg finally pulled back, Iain didn't bother looking up for the clump of mistletoe that was no doubt hanging directly overhead. Instead, he took a very deep breath and rested both hands lightly on Greg's hips.

"Well-" he paused to clear his throat. He knew his face was on fire, but there was absolutely nothing for it at that point. "Well, hello Christmas," he finished with a wide grin.


End file.
